


Take Courage, My Heart

by knighttimesong



Category: The Odyssey - Homer
Genre: Battle, F/M, Returning Home, book nine from penelopes pov, penelope is frustrated about how she is treated as a woman, penelope pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knighttimesong/pseuds/knighttimesong
Summary: When her beloved husband, Odysseus, had left to fight in the Trojan War 20 years ago, Penelope was heartbroken. The dreadful war had raged for 10 long years, but once Penelope heard it had ended, she was elated for Odysseus to return home. Three months passed and there was no sight of her husband, so she was pushed to think that maybe Odysseus would not be returning home. With no sight of Odysseus, male suitors from wealthy, powerful families began to fill the palace, all competing for her hand. Now 20 years later, Penelope still refused to give up hope that her husband would come back to her. Odysseus was the most cunning man she had ever met and Penelope knew that if anyone could find their way home, it would be him. Still, not everyone shared her beliefs and many thought Odysseus died on the journey home.......book nine from 'The Odyssey' written from Penelope's P.O.V because I thought she probably was going through a lot during this.
Relationships: Odysseus/Penelope, Odysseus/Penelope (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Kudos: 7





	Take Courage, My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work I've ever posted on AO3 so sorry if there are mistakes, constructive criticism is always welcome. I wrote this for an English assessment and I found it really funny I was allowed to submit odyssey fanfiction. I did well too, the highest grade. Thanks for reading my story and let me know if you liked it!

An insidious sense of foreboding had taken hold of Penelope in the past week that she was yet to shake off. In the 20 years since she last saw her husband, Odysseus, her home had been filled with suitors. The men came from everywhere, all trying to win her hand in marriage and by default, her kingdom. They were all arrogant, brash men who constantly competed for her attention. She had not felt safe in her own home for many years. The hungry eyes of the suitors crawled under her skin, leaving her constantly unsettled.

When her beloved husband, Odysseus, had left to fight in the Trojan War 20 years ago, Penelope was heartbroken. The dreadful war had raged for 10 long years, but once Penelope heard it had ended, she was elated for Odysseus to return home. Three months passed and there was no sight of her husband, so she was pushed to think that maybe Odysseus would not be returning home. With no sight of Odysseus, male suitors from wealthy, powerful families began to fill the palace, all competing for her hand. Now 20 years later, Penelope still refused to give up hope that her husband would come back to her. Odysseus was the most cunning man she had ever met and Penelope knew that if anyone could find their way home, it would be him. Still, not everyone shared her beliefs and many thought Odysseus died on the journey home. 

And many urged her to marry. In an effort to quell the pressure, she had been encouraged to hold an archery competition to finally pick one of the suitors that plagued her palace. She had felt compelled to retrieve Odysseus’s bow from the store room. The men were to string her husband’s bow and shoot a target, the champion would get to marry Penelope. Penelope knew that the men wouldn’t be able to string the bow as Odysseus had made it himself, deliberately crafting it to be difficult to string. The archer must be gentle and patient, the string being delicate and the bow itself being very strong. Content with her trickery, Penelope sat watching the tourney without strife, knowing she had postponed her fate by another day. 

An astounded gasp ripped her from her thoughts, the crowd around her tittered and startled like a spooked flock of sheep. Penelope cast her gaze over the competition grounds and drew in a sharp breath as her eyes caught on an old beggar man holding her husband's bow, perfectly strung. She vaguely remembered her handmaiden, Eurycleia, maintaining the previous night that a beggar man had taken shelter in their palace, but she hadn’t thought much of it as they often took in weary travellers for a night. The haggard man took aim, his arms a strong, solid line. The bow seemed to become a natural extension of his arms. He let the arrow fly and Penelope watched in shock as it sliced through the air, embedding itself in the centre of the target with a satisfying twack!. In silence Penelope watched the man be named the winner, her body numb with dread. The crowd erupted in outrage, the suitors all began claiming weapons and advancing. Penelope stood, her hands shaking uncontrollably. The crowd rushed around her but she couldn’t take a step. 

Her guards seized her arms and ushered to her quarters, stationing themselves at the doors protecting her from the burgeoning battle. Below her she could hear faint noises, she knew enough that they were the sounds of battle. It must have moved from the competition yard to the main hall of the palace. She could hear faint screams and thuds of what she could only assume were the sound of arrows embedding themselves in human flesh. 

She drew her arms around herself, missing her husband more than ever. Despite the battle happening that second, Penelope couldn't help but feel frustrated with her situation. She was a Queen, but without Odysseus, she was reduced to a scared child hiding from the fight. She had no real power without her husband, whomever wins the battle will no doubt claim her as his wife. Her husband’s words echoed through her head, “Take courage, my heart: you have been through worse than this.” Odysseus was renowned for his metis, and she loved him for it. 

Time moved slowly and fast at the same time. Penelope could not be sure if it had been 10 minutes or 10 hours. It had gone quiet a little while ago and Penelope had begun pacing back and forth in her room, the silence scared her more than the sounds of battle. She heard footsteps outside her door. Penelope hurried to sit in her chair, hiding behind a mask of composure and elegance. She couldn’t be sure what fate laid on the other side of her door, but she could control herself and she wanted to keep her dignity. She stilled her shaking hands by clasping them tightly together, her wedding band digging into her palm. 

When Eurycleia pushed open her door, Penelope let out an audible sound of relief. The old nurse was practically buzzing as she approached her queen. 

“My Queen, your husband, the great Odysseus has returned. He and your son conquered the suitors and brought Kleos for the family and the kingdom,” The old nurse grinned as she delivered the news. “Odysseus was disguised as the old beggar you let shelter here, when I was forced to wash his feet I saw the scar on his calf from the boar. It really is our Odysseus. He has finally returned home.” 

Penelope sat in shock. She struggled to process the information she had just been confronted with. She hadn’t seen her husband in 20 years. She had to find out for herself if the man was really Odysseus or just claiming to be. 

“Take me to see the man claiming to be Odysseus,” she forced from her dry throat. 

“It is Odysseus, I love him like my own son, I would never forget him.” Her handmaiden was always a spirited woman, but often forgot her place. Normally the familiarity was refreshing but at this moment it was unappreciated. 

“Take me to see him now, Eurycleia,” Penelope fixed a cool stare on the nurse. “That's an order.” Eurycleia caught onto the seriousness in her voice and lowered her eyes, rushing to follow orders, leading Penelope from the room. 

The Great hall was a large and magnificent part of the palace. Penelope always admired it’s timeless beauty. Today was no different. That was what confused her. She had heard sounds of battle and the Great Hall was the only place in the palace big enough for a battle to transpire. Penelope saw no signs of a struggle, no bodies of fallen soldiers, no stains of blood or discarded weapons. Only clean floors and shining vases.

In the throne sat a man, his skin was brown from many years spent in the sun, and bore the scars of someone who had seen many battles. A rough beard covered the bottom half of his weathered face. His hair was long and haggard, it was pulled back and secured at the nape of his neck, like how her husband used to keep it. ‘Anyone who knew Odysseus before could have known how Odysseus wore his hair,’ Penelope thought to herself. ‘Don’t be easily convinced.’ Her son, Telemachus, stood behind the stranger. He radiated the pride and energy of a young man who had seen his first fight. So, this man had convinced her son to trust him then. 

“Penelope, my wife. It is so good to see you, I have missed you more than anyone could fathom.” The stranger rose from the throne and started to approach her. Penelope took a step back and held out an arm to stop him.

“How am I to know you really are Odysseus, I haven’t seen my husband in 20 years. You do not look like the man I married.” 

“Mother,” Telemachus reprimanded, shocked. “How dare you question his integrity. This man is your husband, my father, the great Odysseus. You have no right questioning him.” Penelope was not shocked at how easily her son believed this man was his father. He had yearned for Odysseus his whole life, this man was giving him hope, and he was clinging to it.

The man placed a calming hand on her son’s shoulder. “Worry not, my son. She has every right to question me, I expected no less. Why don’t you leave us to talk. Please gather the servants to stage a wedding, we can’t let any passersby suspect the slaughter that has taken place.” Telemachus glanced between the two and stormed out. The man gave out orders in an experienced manner, he had obviously done this before. 

An idea struck Penelope, she knew how to tell imposter from truth. 

“Eurycleia, please take the bed out of the royal chamber and spread it with blankets please, we should have a comfortable place to talk.” The nurse in question bowed her head, confused. 

“Move the bed?” The man claiming to be her husband stared at her in distress. “I carved our bed as a young man, shaping it out of a living olive tree that grew in the courtyard of the palace. I built the bedroom around the tree. The bed cannot be moved, did you destroy it in my absence? I know not a bigger insult.” 

Penelope felt her eyes flood with tears, she embraced Odysseus. “It was a trick, dear husband. I needed to make sure it was really you. Come then, let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.”

She embraced him again and him as tight as she could, not wanting to ever let him go again.


End file.
